Chapter One
The busy traffic of Coruscant, the planet entirely covered in a single city, didn't wait for the haggard looking family as they stared across a traffic lane. Speeders went by in flashes of color and light across the chasm between city blocks. A family, covered in rags, huddled together near a walkway that crossed the gap between a wide plaza and the Jedi Temple on the other side.
The father wrapped his arms around his wife, closing his eyes and attempting to shut out all the noise. The skin on his muscular arms was purple, crisscrossed with burns and scarring. "It's too much," he cried.
"We have to shut it out, Papa," said a little girl, approximately seven or eight standard years old. Unlike her mother and father, her skin was dark blue, rather than reddish purple. The family, excepting the girl, had grown up on a remote world far in the Unknown Regions known as Kesh. The advancement on their homeworld was barely medieval. The height of technology on Kesh consisted of crude watermills. The idea of flying cars flitting about an endless forest of skyscrapers was barely comprehensible to them. Especially after the years of isolation they, and the other families abducted from their homeworld, had faced at the hands of their mysterious master.
"She's right," the mother said, taking a deep breath. In her arms slept a baby, whose skin was the same dark color as his sister, differing from his parents. "Let's go." The mother took the first steps across the walkway. Her daughter followed, and her husband reluctantly took up the rear. He flinched and cowered every time one of the speeders zoomed overhead, mere meters from the tops of their heads.
The family approached the Jedi Temple, ascending the enormous set of stairs that mounted the ziggurat. A series of public landing pads lay on either side of the stairs. Here speeders and transports would land, deposit their passengers, and then take off again, making room for the next vehicle. The activity never seemed to stop, or even slow down.
They reached the top of the stairs and glanced behind them, gazing down at the wide road known as Processional Way. The boulevard led to a huge landing platform that hung over the edge of the base of the ziggurat. Towering over them were enormous stone columns, which stood vigilant before the main entrance to the temple, the Jedi depicted upon them in bronzium looking both majestic and serene.
The family walked underneath the columns until they reached the main gate. A security detail stood before the entrance, screening visitors with scanners and checking their identification documents. The family approached the gate, gaining the attention of the security personnel.
"Hold on," a human guard with dark skin said, holding up his hands and pulling them from the line. "Are you looking for the Jedi charity services office? That office is in a branch at the Senate complex."
"Not charity," the mother said. "We want to give our children to the Jedi."
"Excuse me?" the guard asked, frowning in concern.
"They have the Force," she stated. "We can't care for them, the dark man is looking for us."
"Momma…" the daughter began, suddenly realizing why her parents had taken them here.
"This is officer Yen," the guard said, speaking into the comlink on his collar. "I need the Gatemaster at the public entrance."
A moment later an aged Jedi Master, a hammer-headed Ithorian, emerged from within the temple. "How may I be of service," the Ithorian said, his voice a low rumble.
"You must take our children. They have the Force," the mother begged. "We are hunted." The Jedi gazed at the family, his eyes widening in puzzlement. He placed his hand on the daughter's forehead and closed his eyes.
"Indeed, they have Force within them. But it is...unstable. I haven't felt anything like it before." He looked at each family member in turn and then placed his hand upon the baby's forehead. "Where are you from?"
"Far away," the father said nervously.
"Alright, you may find shelter here. We will assess the children," the Ithorian said. He glanced at the daughter. "But we can make no promises."
oOoOo
Floating remotes drifted throughout a youngling training room deep within the Jedi Temple. The children stood in four neat rows, helmets with closed visors upon their heads. They carried training lightsabers, which were smaller and not as powerful as the real thing.
Aramis, all of four years old, stood at the end of the second row. He followed the remote in his mind, sensing its energy in the Force. Or trying to. Sometimes he could sense it just like the other children. At other times, the Force was cloudy. He did not know why he had trouble, while the other children did not. He studied his lessons and practiced just as hard as they did. Sometimes even harder.
Two Jedi walked amongst the younglings. They studied each child as they practiced with the remotes. The object for the children was to practice gaining a connection to the Force, and less about swordsmanship. The remotes, floating droids with low power blasters, were more difficult to sense than a living being was. But the remotes were also less complicated than a living, thinking being. The remotes did not have emotions or motivations. The remotes did not have the willpower to resist the children's probes.
The Jedi would correct a child here and there who held their lightsaber incorrectly or began swinging wildly. One child had perfect form with the lightsaber, but seemed to be struggling at sensing the remote.
"Aramis," one of the Jedi said, kneeling down until he was at eye level with the youngling with the dark blue skin.
"Yes, master," Aramis responded, removing his helmet and revealing his bald head. They did not know what species the youngling belonged to, or what world his family had arrived from. But they did know that the other members of his family had possessed hair. For some reason Aramis did not.
"Do you need to take a break?"
"No, master," Aramis answered, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve.
"Alright then. Remember to relax. Let the Force flow through you."
"Yes, master," the boy nodded before placing the helmet back upon his head. The Jedi watched Aramis for a moment, and then motioned for the other Jedi to join him in the hall.
"He is struggling again," the older master, a human with long greying hair, said.
"I don't understand why," the other Jedi said, a Zabrak woman with brown skin and polished cranial horns. "He did fine the other day. He excels at his studies, at meditation. He's top in his class in his primary lessons."
The human Jedi took a deep breath. "I've been following his progress ever since he arrived at the Temple. When he was dropped off as a baby his Force potential indicated he would make a perfect candidate. He was showing telekinesis ability before he could walk. Now...it's like he is growing less powerful instead of more."
"I don't understand how that is possible."
"Neither do I.
"Do you think he'll wash out?"
"We will see."
oOoOo
Aramis, six years old, knelt before the Jedi Council. He tried to suppress the awe he felt to be in their presence. True, he had met many of them before, including Master Yoda who often taught many of the youngling classes. But never all of them in the same room, and never all of them with their attention on him.
They all stared at him with curiosity, although the displayed it in different ways.
"Your name?" Yoda asked.
"Aramis Barisan Ibelin," he stated. He did not remember his parents, and had no idea why they had left him at the temple. But he liked the name they had given him before they had gone.
"You did very well during combat trials. And your lessons," Ki Adi Mundi said.
"Thank you, Master," Aramis said.
"Your spiritual energy is excellent," Plo Kloon said. "However…"
"We will not be able to select you for advancement," Mace Windu added, shaking his head. "You will not be selected to become a Padawan."
Aramis was shocked to finally hear the words spoken, but he was not surprised. He had barely passed his Initiate trials when he was four, and he had only fallen further behind his peers ever since.
"In service to the Jedi do you wish to remain?" Yoda asked.
"Master?"
"The Jedi Order is not made up of Jedi alone," Ki Adi Mundi said. "The Service Corp. could use someone as talented and smart as yourself. If you want to continue living in the Temple..."
"I do," Aramis said firmly.
"A bright future I foresee ahead of you, young one," Yoda said. "The end, this is not."
Aramis held his belongings tightly to his chest as he was led through the halls of the Jedi Temple. It had only been a couple of hours since he had knelt before the High Council and listened as the Jedi Masters decided his fate, and already he was being moved. His belongings didn't consist of much, a small box containing storybooks and a few toys, clay pencils for drawing, and a small datapad that he used for his lessons. He didn't need to carry his clothes. He would be outfitted with new clothes once he reached his destination, a boys dormitory for non-Jedi. Today would be the last day that he wore his Initiate robes. The Jedi leading him through the halls was telling him about the Service Corps, about how he would be able to serve the Light just as well as any Jedi. But he doubted that was the case.
Aramis could hear the Jedi's lightsaber bouncing against his belt as they descended a wide set of stairs that led to the lower dormitory levels. He knew that he would never be able to construct the signature weapon of the Jedi Order. It had been one of the things he had looked forward to the most.
"This is it," the Jedi said as they reached a blue door. "Go on in and report to the Dormitory Master. He'll be expecting you."
"Okay," he answered. He entered the doorway and found himself on the upper level of an enormous multi-tiered courtyard. The area was built like an open air garden, although there was no sky, only the ceiling that marked the barrier between the Jedi levels and the level that Aramis was now relegated to.
A fountain bubbled at the center of the courtyard, and around it knelt a dozen students, most of them only a few years older than himself. Off in the distance an instructor watched as students tested themselves with tall staves, training just as hard with their weapon as the Jedi did with theirs.
"Hello there young man," someone called. Aramis turned to find a human woman approaching, her auburn hair tied back in a bun. "Do you need to report to the Dormitory Master?" she asked, eyeing the small chest he held tightly.
Aramis nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape from within.
"Alright, follow me," she said with a smile. "You're going to get your own room now, you won't have to share like before."
"Really?"
"That's right. Plus, you'll get to take trips out of the Temple far more often." He realized that she was just trying to cheer him up, trying to get him to focus on the positive changes. But he couldn't help but think of the life he had once thought was ahead of him, that was now gone forever.
She led him down a pathway that edged around the outside of the courtyard until they reached the Dormitory Master's office. The office had an exterior window that looked towards the Senate District. Aramis could just barely make out the enormous dome structure in the distance. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, and two chairs, sized appropriately to fit younglings, sat before it. The desk was currently unoccupied, but one of the chairs was not.
"Hi, my name is Kylta," a young Zabrak girl said, smiling brightly as Aramis took the seat next to her. "Are you the new boy?"
The girl was a couple years older than he, and dressed in the same uniform as the other children in the courtyard. Similar to Jedi robes, but much more like civilian clothing. Where Jedi robes were spun inside the Jedi Temple from special fabrics, these uniforms were clearly mass produced.
"Yeah," Aramis answered meekly.
"Well, I'll have to show you all the games we play."
"You have your own games down here?"
"Well...they are kind of the same, but not as much Force using."
"Oh," Aramis shrugged.
"It looks like we have a new arrival," the Dormitory Master said from behind them. He walked around the desk and sat. "What's your name?"
"Aramis."
"Well, Aramis, I'm very happy you're here."
Aramis did not feel happy at all, but he tried smiling anyway. The Dormitory Master began talking about his new life, and the more he explained, it seemed the more his old life faded away.